


Shared

by mamalorian



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22553353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamalorian/pseuds/mamalorian
Summary: Just some drabbles on Loki’s relationship with you.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

You’re drawing, charcoal smudged high across your cheekbone and darkening the tips of your fingers when it hits him with abrupt clarity, like one of his dear brothers lightning strikes. It’s a sudden feeling of awareness, of the way your tongue sticks at the corner of your lips under intense focus. The way that you twirl the end of your pony tail to the point that it forms a perfect spiral. The way your eyes crinkle at the edges when you find humor in the moment. 

He’s in the middle of peeling an orange, your favorite treat, when he realizes that he feels for you in a way he’s never experienced in his lifetime. He loves Frigga, yes but this is different all encompassing affection that he might have confused initially for severe fondness. 

This fledgling love, the beginning stages of something beautiful and awe inspiring catches him off guard, and when he drops the perfectly peeled fruit next to your elbow, you give him that megawatt smile; the one that makes him believe that there’s still something good in him, that Frigga was right, because there’s no way someone as radiant as you could grace him a smile that exquisite, that wonderful, if he was as villainous as he believes himself to be. 

When he wipes at the charcoal smeared across your face, there must be something tender in his gaze because you look confused at first, then it melts away to something akin to adoration. Your smile seems more hesitant now, and then he kisses you, softly and delicately in a way that contradicts his reputation. 

You don’t get enough time to rejoice or revel, because he pulls back and brushes your noses together in a mock nuzzle. You’re both watching each other closely, unsure of what’s unfolding when he smiles first, breaking the uncertainty with a gentle tap of his finger across your bottom lip. 

The words hang between you, unspoken but implied in the way you’re both looking at each other, the love is there and that’s enough for you. When you hold out a piece of the orange, that must click into place for him because he smiles harder, creases appearing at the edges of his mouth; it hits you, how beautiful and tragic this man is and you still love him, despite the flaws and cruelty he’s wrought. Maybe, maybe this makes you the flawed one. 

He takes the fruit and leans forward to kiss you again, a closed mouth quick peck breathing across your lips an accented, “Me too, darling. Me too.”


	2. 2

It most certainly does not start off innocently, not like some fanciful fairytale romance full of sweet longing and heartfelt confessions, not like some B rated rom-com you watched as a young girl and sighed over the blonde and blue eyed heart throb. 

It starts off indecently, matter of fact, right in the middle of a social function, the worst timing really but also that’s what excites you the most, the thrill of being caught in a provocative manner. You and Natasha had spent ample time getting ready, slinky dresses and hair the same, dark and seductive makeup with pouty lips swathed in gloss. She had laughed when you stepped out, green dress embracing your frame like a lover, your legs a mile long in the sky high heels. 

Two hours worth of preparations to get ready, all undone by Loki’s hands in a matter of minutes. You had cataloged his facial expression when you had joined the others, his parted lips and lax jaw when you stepped close and adjusted his silver tie. “You clean up well, for the God of Chaos I suppose.” 

When he all but throws you over his shoulder twenty minutes into your rousing conversation with some visiting ambassador from South Africa, Natasha had given you a knowing smirk followed by a saucy wink. 

He’s on you in a matter of seconds, after shoving you into the coat closet of all places, fingers lingering at your hips before shoving the fabric up to your waist. He’s kissing you like a man starved, and even with your heels he had to stoop down, curving his neck to get that first taste of you. His own mouth has faint traces of champagne that you chase with your tongue, drawing a moan from him as he fists your underwear hard, the straps digging into your flesh. 

The elastic band gives and snaps harshly against your flesh and you gasp into Loki’s mouth, “hey! I liked tho-“

“I’ll buy you a thousand pair, love. If that’s what you wish.” His questioning fingers find you already damp, and you get your teeth into his lip and sink them down, drawing blood when he rolls them against your clit. You let go with a pop, taking a great pull of air, and call him a tease when he swirls his fingers so close to your entrance. 

“Wicked, savage little thing.” He rasps from above you, gathering your wetness across his pointer finger and you whine his name so sweet that he has to shut his eyes with a ragged breath. 

“I’m going to give you what you desire, love.” And presses him finger in, his nail scratching your tender flesh and you hiss out a cry, head falling back against the wall. Loki wastes no time on getting his mouth on your neck, sucking at your pulse and setting a slow rhythm with his wayward finger. 

You want to die, right here, this perfect agony will be your final resting place, clinging to a man who would burn this world to ash if you so requested. 

Loki builds your orgasm with intense focus, panting praise into your skin and playing you like the finest of instruments, your pleasured cries like a symphony of sweet victory to his ears; then you’re rising, a rapid crescendo, that climbs and climbs until you’re wrought with desire, the pinnacle peak within your grasp and only rivaled by Loki breathing your name across your lips. You come hard, eyes rolling back and a body stringing up tight, Loki pushing you to the very brink and you realize why the french call an orgasm, the little death. 

When you’ve come back down to earth, Loki’s stroking your cheeks with a rather fond look, and you give him a sheepish smile. “You look smug, mister.”

“You, Love, look a pretty sight.” He traces the flush across your skin with his fingers first, then his eager mouth. You could fall under this spell again, arousal burning in your gut but you want this to be an even playing field. You reach blindly for his waist, your fingers sliding across the bulge in his trousers, cupping along the length there and curl your fingers the best you can through the tight fabric. 

“Love.” He pants. “Not in here.” But he doesn’t stop petting you and you smack his hands away, playfully. 

“Not in here.” You parrot, giving him a cheeky smile and you hum against his mouth when he gives you a deep and drugging kiss. 

“I couldn’t help myself. You, in this dress? Magnificent.” 

“Why thank you good sir!” You giggle, giving a failed curtsy in the cramped space, and he quirks an eyebrow at your mockery of his accent, trying to smooth your hair back in place. 

“Seems that I’ve ruined your makeup.” He doesn’t sound the least bit sorry about it either. You shrug. “Eh, they already know what we are doing in here anyways.” Now he looks prideful, and you go about straightening his tie again. Loki, his features melting into something pensive, draws the back of his hand across your cheek and you swallow hard. He’s never said the words to you, not out loud anyways, but his actions and pronounced looks express it in a hundred different ways. 

You? You’re a little more vocal about it. 

“I love you.” You breathe, swallowing hard on the feeling of emotion clogging your throat. One orgasm and he’s got you wrapped around his fingers, literally. He cups your face, his longer fingers curving gently across your cheeks and the sides of your skull. 

“I’ve got the world in my hands when I hold you.” He says, voice even and the truth rings in his words You sniff, nodding to keep the tears at bay and kiss his palm. “We better get back, it smells like moth balls in here anyways.” 

Theres a sudden knock on the door, a throat clearing and you snicker into Loki’s hand when he opens the door wide, partially blocking your view of Steve with his features embarrassing and flushed. “I’m sorry to interrupt, I need to get in there for just a second.”

You squeeze around them both, drawing Loki out with your fingers linked together. Natasha stands behind Steve, looking like the cat who got the canary. You wink at the super soldier, pulling Loki down the hallway. 

“No worries Cap! We were just warming the room up for you and Tasha!” 

The look on his face is so worth it.


End file.
